On Yoga Pants...

You'll recall a guy named Ralph Waldo Thoreau, don't you?  I think he wrote a book or a poem or something called "On Golden Pond."  Well, I don't recall ever seeing a golden pond, but I do kind of like the title.  So I'm going to appropriate some of it for the unassuming little blog posting to follow.  Not the exact title, mind you, just the basic format.  Got it?  Knew you would.  And so, without further ado, or a'don't, my essay:

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The approximate percentage of women and girls wearing yoga pants these days is 100.  As in, 100%.  All.  Every woman and girl in America wears yoga pants.  I know.  I pay attention to these things.  Yet, I don't really know how to say this...without saying this...so I'm going to say this.  Some women, and some girls, should NOT wear yoga pants.  There.  I said it.  

Oh.  You want me to elucidate?  To further describe?  Which is what elucidate means?  Okay, I shall.  I saw a woman today walking in front of me at the post office, wearing yoga pants, and it looked for all the world like two pigs fighting in a gunny sack.  Like your classic blivet.  Don't know what a blivet is?  It's two pounds of s**t in a one pound bag.  Like two bowling balls at war with each inside a gauzy layer of Spandex.  The mere act of walking caused the barely-restrained, overstuffed masses of protoplasm to crash back and forth against each other to an almost painful degree.  I'm pretty sure you could follow this woman, step by step, at CalTech's earthquake labs.  I recall thinking how happy I was she was dressed; the only thing worse would have been for her to remove her yoga pants and go bare-assed.  And the only thing worse for me is if she had...

I'd say that only about 34% of our women and girls should wear yoga pants.  And I'm being generous.  It's really probably more like 20%, but hey...I'm just that kind of guy.  But the rest?  Ummmmm, no.  Similarly, not more than about 20% truly display the kind of physical attributes necessary for a yoga pant display.  The remainder in the middle neither attract the eyeballs, nor do they repulse them.  They're more or less invisible, which is probably not what the wearer is expecting.  And praying for.  

Yoga pants make be as comfortable as all get out, but please, ladies, be considerate!  Your pants may make your ass feel good but they may make my eyes feel bad!  There actually should be a law preventing morbidly obese women and girls from torturing our eyes by wearing yoga pants.  Misdemeanor, not felony.  A  $1,000 fine should do.  And then redistribute the earnings from those fines to buy us all sun glasses.  

Or blinders...

You can even hear them coming.  A percentage of the women and girls exercising their Constitutional Rights by wearing yoga pants have thighs so massive (how massive are they?) they rudely rub Spandex back and forth together, making the most unpleasant sound.  They cannot...not.  A sound that precedes the wearer, sort of a "squish-squish," like sandpaper on silk, barely giving us the notice we'll need to escape the immediate vicinity.   I guess in retrospect they're doing us a favor.  Sort of like a siren.  Get out of the way!  Thanks, I think.

Anyway, my spleen is thus vented on the subject of yoga pants.  I only like them on super models, or on women who will go out with me.  I'm sort of flexible like that...